Chapter 132
After ending the call with Mrs. Marigold, Alaric’s mind remained in turmoil. He couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt for Caspian, especially thinking back on all the times the boy had cried out, “I want Galatea to be my mommy; I only recognize her as my mommy!” The memory of Caspian’s heartbreaking cries stung, and Alaric realized how much of that pain might have been his fault. How many times had he rejected the boy when he needed him the most?
He rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the building tension in his head when the door creaked open.
“I’m back,” Galatea’s voice broke his thoughts, and he looked up to see her walk in with a shopping bag filled with noodles.
“Why were you gone for so long?” Alaric asked, glancing at the clock, his curiosity piqued.
“The supermarket near the hospital didn’t have any noodles, so I went to another one. It took a bit longer than expected. Are you hungry? I’ll cook for you right away.” She smiled, a warmth in her eyes that softened his heart.
He watched as she quickly made the noodles. The whole process was simple, but it felt so different from the way he used to view her. Previously, he would have found reasons to dislike everything she did. But now? Now, everything she did seemed to captivate him more and more.
Soon, she placed a steaming bowl of noodles on the table, looking up at him expectantly. “Alright, come and eat.”
Alaric sat down at the table, hesitating for just a second before picking up his chopsticks. As he ate, he couldn’t help but notice how much he was enjoying the simple meal. It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect in its own way.
“Nobody would believe that the noble Mr. Alaric actually loves eating plain noodles,” Galatea remarked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
Alaric smirked, his voice thoughtful. “Although exotic dishes are good, they can be tiring when eaten too often. Unlike this bowl of plain noodles—there’s no overwhelming flavor, but they leave a lasting impression.”
Galatea smiled, nodding as if she understood. “Oh.”
A moment passed, and then Alaric’s voice broke the silence. “Stay here tonight.”
Galatea froze, looking at him in confusion. “Huh?”
“I’m sick. I need someone to take care of me.” His words were so direct, yet there was an underlying vulnerability to them that caught her off guard.
She hesitated, remembering her responsibilities at home. “But didn’t you live here alone for a week before? You managed just fine on your own.”
Alaric’s expression softened slightly, though a hint of frustration flickered in his eyes. “I realized how pitiful it is not to have anyone take care of me, especially at night. It’s almost unbearable.”
The admission was so unexpected that Galatea couldn’t help but laugh, albeit softly. “Really? You’re asking me to stay because you’re pitiful?”
He shrugged in a way that almost seemed childlike. “Yes.”
Her mind was torn between her obligations and the unexpected tenderness Alaric was showing. She looked at him, trying to decide what to do.
“But I’ve been busy,” she said slowly, “I haven’t spent much time with Harry and Elisa. I need to be there for them tonight.”
Alaric’s lips turned downward, and a passive-aggressive tone crept into his voice. “Oh, right. It’s important to spend time with the children.”
She felt a pang of guilt but tried to keep her composure. “I really should go home, Alaric. They’re waiting for me.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, and he lay back on the bed, turning away from her. “Then go to bed early, but… I have to get the IV drip in the evening, so I can’t go to bed early. It’s fine,” he muttered. “Just go. The kids are waiting.”
Galatea sighed in exasperation. This wasn’t the cold and distant Alaric she was used to. He was acting like a petulant child, throwing a small tantrum. Still, she felt a strange fondness growing inside her. “If you need the IV drip, how about I find a nurse to do it for you?” she suggested.
“No need. I don’t like strangers around me,” he replied sharply, his back still turned to her. “Go on. The kids are waiting.”
Galatea couldn’t help but shake her head in bemusement. She had spent enough time around him to know that he was not someone who asked for help easily. But this sudden display of vulnerability? It was completely out of character for him.
“Okay, I’m leaving,” she said, voice tinged with a mix of affection and frustration.
Alaric simply grunted in response. “Uh-huh.”
Just as she turned to leave, a nurse pushed a medicine cart into the room, and Alaric’s need for the IV drip became clear. Galatea paused in the doorway, noticing the nurse was distracted by another urgent matter. The nurse quickly excused herself, and Galatea, realizing there weren’t enough staff on duty, stepped back into the room.
“Wait. I’ll do it,” she said, showing her physician’s ID. “You can go attend to the other patients.”
The nurse gave her a grateful nod and left in a hurry. Galatea set to work, preparing the IV bag and syringe.
She approached Alaric’s bed, where he was still lying with his back turned to her. “Get up. Time for your injection,” she said, her tone firm yet warm.
Alaric’s eyes flickered with surprise as he turned toward her. “Didn’t you say you were going home to be with the kids? Why are you still here?”
“How could I leave you alone in the hospital?” she replied, her hands steady as she began prepping his arm for the injection. “Well, considering how caring you were when I was in the hospital, I’ll reluctantly stay.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “At least you have a conscience.”
Galatea chuckled softly. She was starting to see a side of him she hadn’t expected—one that wasn’t as cold and unapproachable as he often seemed. It was strange, but she was beginning to feel more comfortable around him, and maybe, just maybe, she was starting to see him as more than just a business partner or the aloof man he’d always been.
“Bear with me, I’m about to inject you,” she said, her tone shifting to a more clinical focus.
The needle went in smoothly, and Alaric, to her surprise, didn’t react with any pain.
“Dr. Galatea’s needling technique is really good,” Alaric said, his voice curious. “Did you start by practicing on yourselves?”
“Needling’s child’s play,” Galatea replied with a shrug. “My main focus is clinical research—dissecting donated bodies, perfecting incisions, removing tumors while avoiding critical organs and arteries. The real challenge is surgery, not this.”
Alaric watched her, intrigued. “No wonder you made it into Country M’s Medical Research Institute at such a young age.”
She didn’t hesitate to continue. “It’s not boasting. That institute is the pinnacle of the medical field. Only three people are selected every five years out of thousands of applicants, and I was ranked first in both the written test and the interview. Director Josep even tried to persuade me not to leave. He said I could come back anytime.”
Alaric raised an eyebrow. “If it was that prestigious, and the dean treated you so well, why did you come back?”
Galatea hesitated. She wasn’t expecting him to ask such a serious question, and for a moment, she considered lying. But something told her she couldn’t. “I came back because I wanted to find…” she trailed off, suddenly uncertain.
“Ambrose?” he interrupted, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Her breath caught in her throat. How did he know about Ambrose?
Before she could say anything, he bit her lip gently, the action swift and decisive. “Forget about him completely. Alaric is your future husband’s name, do you understand?”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Future husband?” she echoed, bewildered by his bold statement.
He didn’t let her process his words before leaning in again, his lips capturing hers in another kiss. Galatea’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion and awe. He was still getting treated at the hospital, and yet, here he was, so insistent on making his intentions clear.
This was a side of Alaric she had never seen before—unpredictable, possessive, and undeniably intense.